My partner, T., cross-dresses. Before I met him, my experience of men dressing as women was limited to (1) playing it as a joke (Bosom Buddies, anyone?) or (2) in the context of sex/BDSM, as an act of humiliation for the man.

Let me tell you, I don’t appreciate it when characteristics of my gender are used as an example of something humiliating. Fuck that shit. Or, to quote from Bitchy Jones’ blog, “If you use feminisation for humiliation, or punishment, equate it with submission, lowliness, powerlessness, sexual powerlessness, lack of sexual control, being used sexually then you are insulting me.” HELL yeah.

When I met T., his concept of cross-dressing turned all of that upside-down. Because he’s a switch, I assumed that he took the submissive role when he’s cross-dressed. Uh, no. Emphatically no. When he’s cross-dressed, he is a power domme from hell. A force of nature. And he doesn’t submit, not when he’s cross-dressed. And GOD, is he ever sexy in a tight skirt and heels (heels which, I don’t mind saying, I am more than happy to kiss).

T.’s cross-dressing doesn’t insult me at all. In taking on characteristics of my gender, he accesses a power and control that he doesn’t ordinarily feel when he’s in “guy clothes.” It flatters me that he sees power in my gender.